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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23320732">Have a Nice Trip</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingsofeverything/pseuds/kingsofeverything'>kingsofeverything</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>the butthole series [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>One Direction (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, COVID-19, Crack, Friends to Lovers, Harry Styles makes an ass of himself, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, Roommates, Sex under the influence of psychedelic drugs, Smut, and there is like one mention of coke in the past, social distancing, they eat shrooms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 15:54:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,394</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23320732</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingsofeverything/pseuds/kingsofeverything</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>While Harry and his roommate Louis are stuck at home practicing social distancing, they decide to take a little trip to pass the time.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>the butthole series [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1554937</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>88</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>481</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Have a Nice Trip</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/YesIsAWorld/gifts">YesIsAWorld</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/homosociallyyours/gifts">homosociallyyours</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thank youuuuu Megan for always sending me awesome ideas and for being so encouraging and all around wonderful! </p>
<p>Thanks to Nic for everything always ❤️</p>
<p>This is not betaed! Please forgive any errors. I just wanted to post it so hopefully someone will get a laugh and maybe their day will be a little brighter.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <b>If you’d like to translate any of my fics, feel free, but please post the translation on ao3. </b></p>
<p> </p>
<p> <br/><b>Please do not post this fic or any of my other fics on any other websites.</b><br/></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“This is the worst,” Harry says, stomping through the apartment to flop down onto the couch next to Louis. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Feels like maybe you’re exaggerating a bit, babe.” Louis scrolls his Twitter feed, pausing it now and then to turn the phone so Harry can see that he is, in fact, exaggerating.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All things considered, they have it pretty good. They’ve both been able to work from home, they have a kitchen stocked with food, they have a nice place, Wi-Fi, and each other. Not much else they could ask for, really.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But I had a date.” Harry pouts, crossing his legs at the ankle and propping them on the coffee table. “And an appointment at the, um… salon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The salon? Thought you were growing your hair out,” Louis says, finally putting his phone down and paying attention to Harry. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am. Sort of. Maybe.” Harry shrugs, twisting his lips. “I don’t know. It keeps getting to that in between stage and— Anyway! Not the point. Or the salon. It was an appointment for, you know, downstairs.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Niall?” Louis asks, pointing at the floor, and through that, at their friend and downstairs neighbor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, downstairs, as in, on me. My downstairs,” Harry says, and for emphasis, grabs his crotch. Just in case Louis didn’t get it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You need a pro to trim your pubes?” Louis laughs, shaking his head at what he probably sees as an unnecessary expense. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not just my…” Raising his eyebrows, Harry looks up at the ceiling. They do an excellent job of that as well, but it’s best to keep to the subject at hand. “My, you know…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh! Oh…” Louis presses his lips together, obviously stifling a laugh, and nods. “Getting a little… overgrown in the asshole area?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, if you must know,” Harry says, folding his arms over his chest with a huff.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t ask.” Standing and moving quickly away from the couch, Louis says, “You’re the one just telling me about your hairy asshole. Heh. Harry asshole.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hilarious.” Harry fishes in between the couch cushions and finds a nickel and a dirty sock, tossing them both at Louis. “I like to keep it neat back there. Guys think it’s hot.” Louis mutters something, and Harry cranes his neck to see him in the kitchen. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I said, ‘not this guy’, not that it matters, ’cause it’s your asshole. I mean, do what you want. Who I am to judge?” Louis shrugs, and says, “Just saying, I’ve seen plenty of assholes. And I’m sure yours is fine without a visit to the salon. Not that you’re going on a date anytime soon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry scoffs and falls sideways on the couch, so Louis can’t see him. He’s never put much thought into the types of guys that Louis dates, or their assholes, mainly because none of them are him.  And he doesn’t want to think about someone else having sex with the man he’s been secretly in love with for the past two years. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, you don’t… do anything? You just let it grow?” Harry asks from his place on the couch, hidden from view. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess? It’s not like it’ll keep growing. I’m not gonna have foot long pubes—” Louis gasps, and Harry hears footsteps, then Louis peeks over the back of the couch, eyes wide and mischievous. “Is that what’s going on? You have foot long asshole hairs?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No!” Harry tries in vain to smack him, but Louis is too fast, darting out of the way and running back to the kitchen. “Shut up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whatever, man. But no, I don’t trim my pubes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not at all?” Harry asks, sitting up on his knees and watching Louis move around the kitchen, making them both grilled cheese sandwiches. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not anymore. Used to. Dated this guy who was like, really turned off by body hair. Otherwise, I liked him a lot, so I kept it super short, even shaved my chest.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?” Fascinated by this look into Louis’ dating life, Harry leans forward, resting his elbows on the back of the couch and holding his chin in his hands. “What happened?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ehh… Didn’t work out,” Louis says, flipping their sandwiches. “Which was fine, honestly. We dated about six months, and by that point I was ready to get railed, you know what I mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Harry squeaks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I wouldn’t get my asshole waxed, and I wasn’t about to shave it, so I never bottomed when I was with him. So after six months, I was looking to get fucked hard, right?” Louis says this all like it’s a typical conversation for them to have, but it’s not. Harry usually avoids any and all sex talk with Louis because he doesn’t want to hear about the people Louis sleeps with. He watches Louis while he pushes their sandwiches around with the spatula, then grabs plates from the cabinet. Louis looks up at Harry and frowns. “Never got rimmed either. Six whole months.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Harry squeaks again. Rimmed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And it’s not like I've got a forest growing back there. It’s just, like, normal hair.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait.” Harry blinks, wondering who exactly this ex-boyfriend is. “Someone dated you for six whole months and never touched your ass? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Your </span>
  </em>
  <span>ass?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah…” Louis flips their sandwiches onto plates. “I mean, he touched it. Like, over clothes and stuff.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry snorts and scoffs simultaneously, resulting in a sort of pig-like chortle, then coughs into his sleeve like a civilized, plague-avoiding human. Imagine the absolute gall of someone dating Louis Tomlinson </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>his ass for six entire months and never touching it. Imagine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He wasn’t really a terrible guy, like, overall. I feel bad talking about him,” Louis says, when Harry joins him at the kitchen sink to wash their hands side by side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then don’t talk about him,” Harry says. But keep talking about your ass. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay.” Louis wrinkles his nose, flicking the clean water from his hands into Harry’s face, and hurries out of the kitchen with his sandwich. When Harry joins him on the couch a moment later, Louis says, “Hey, I have something for you. For later, if you want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Narrowing his eyes, Harry takes a contemplative bite of grilled cheese sandwich, while he searches his memory for the </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>that Louis is speaking of. “What is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, ’shrooms. If not now, when, right?” Louis stuffs half his sandwich in his mouth at once and grins. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, okay,” Harry says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s been months since Louis told him about the few times he tripped on mushrooms when he was in college, and Harry asked to be included if the opportunity should arise again. He thought he might enjoy it, if Louis was there to hold his hand through it. And once Louis agreed, Harry forgot all about it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After they finish eating, they go on about their day. Occasionally, Harry pouts about his missed salon appointment, but he doesn’t mention it again to Louis. Mostly, he spends the rest of the day thinking about Louis’ ass, and what the hairs along his crack look like. Sure, he’s seen Louis’ pubes a time or two. Impossible not to when they’ve lived together for two years, and when Louis has a propensity for wearing his sweatpants very, very, very low, but he’s never even seen his ass out of pants. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Much of his afternoon and early evening is spent daydreaming about Louis’ ass, and he can’t say it’s a waste of time. He has to shower and jerk off because just the thought of it has him too horny to function, and he wants to be able to think straight, for now anyway, if they’re going to eat shrooms later. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Since Louis made them lunch, Harry makes dinner, and when they’re done, Louis suggests they straighten up the apartment a bit. Harry does a double take, but Louis explains that he thinks it’s best if they don’t have piles of laundry and books to physically trip over while they’re mentally tripping later. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The mushrooms Louis has are dried and gross looking, and Harry decides right away that this is something he’ll only ever do with Louis. As soon as he swallows them, he’s almost positive he’ll throw up, though he’s going to try not to, and he’s nervous. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I texted Niall. He’s around, obviously, so if something happens, we can call him,” Louis says, sitting next to Harry on the couch. He leans back into the cushion, and looks at Harry. “Don’t be scared, man. It’s your first trip. It’ll be like, colors and giggles and shit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay.” Harry sucks his lower lip into his mouth and bites down, averting his gaze from Louis’ low slung sweatpants, and wishing Louis was wearing a shirt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So… This is it, then. You want to stay out here on the couch?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where else would we go?” Harry doesn’t want to go anywhere. They’re not supposed to go anywhere. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sometimes I like to listen to music,” Louis says, bumping his bare shoulder against Harry’s. Maybe Harry should be wearing a shirt. “Chill in my bed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want to be alone,” Harry says instantly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, man. I just meant, like, we can go lay down and watch a movie, or listen to music, or stay right here.” Louis rubs his hand in circles on his bare stomach, then scratches at the hair below his belly button, and Harry’s brain zooms off in the direction of the hairs on Louis’ ass crack. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Harry says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, I want to lay in your bed and listen to music,” Harry says, standing and walking towards Louis’ bedroom. His stomach feels a little weird, but he’s not nauseated, so he lays down on his back on Louis’ bed, hands folded behind his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dude, you just left me out there,” Louis says with a laugh, kicking his bedroom door shut, and dumping both of their phones, a couple of bananas, and two bottles of water onto the bedside table. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry doesn’t apologize. He watches Louis instead, and wonders if he’s already tripping or if the curve of Louis’ ass is just </span>
  <em>
    <span>like that.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>About half an hour in, Harry starts to feel a little sick to his stomach, but he holds his hand flat against it, and tells his insides to behave. Miraculously, they do. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You okay, babe?” Louis asks, taking Harry’s hand, which he now realizes is clinched in a fist. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah…” Harry watches Louis lace their fingers together. “Was trying to see how hard I could squeeze my hand.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Looked like it,” Louis says, rolling onto his side to face Harry and letting go of his hand. He pinches the tips of Harry’s fingers, one at a time. “Feeling good?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Feeling good. Feel… good.” Harry giggles and turns on his side, so they’re face to face. “Your eyes are blue.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. They are,” Louis says patiently. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bluey-greeny-blue. Blue.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And yours are green.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Harry whines, flopping onto his back again. “Yours are beautiful. Blue-tee-full. Mine are… Can you feel your eyeballs?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not supposed to touch your face, Harry,” Louis says, circling his fingers around Harry’s wrist and pulling his hand away from his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I mean, can you </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel </span>
  </em>
  <span>them?” Harry asks, closing his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh… No. I mean, I can, but like normal. They don’t feel weird or anything.” Louis brushes Harry’s hair from his forehead, and Harry blinks, watching his hand moving close up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mine don’t feel weird. I’m just… aware of their presence in my skull.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Louis snorts, rubbing his thumb over Harry’s eyebrow. “They are definitely present in your skull.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” Harry says. Would be weird if they weren’t.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s an interesting trip. Having never done anything like acid or mushrooms, he wasn’t sure what to expect, despite reading up on it beforehand. His drug experiences are rather slim. He’s smoked a lot of weed, drank way too much alcohol, and tried coke a couple of times, but he generally sticks to booze and pot. He’s not made out of money. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Though that might be an interesting sensation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you still rubbing my eyebrow or am I imagining it?” Harry asks, eyes closed, and not wanting to see for himself either way. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The touch stops, and Louis says, “Sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s okay. Like when you touch me,” Harry says, eyes still closed, and refusing to open them because then Louis will see him, and that can’t be good. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit,” Louis says, and Harry opens his eyes, turning his head to look at him. “I should’ve stayed sober for this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eyes going wide, Harry rolls over, and quietly asks, “Are you freaking out?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Louis whispers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Should I call Niall?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No…” Louis presses his hands to his eyes, and Harry watches his lips move while he talks. “I just should've stayed sober, ’cause I have a hard time controlling my tongue, you know, like normally, but now I just kind of want to say… whatever. And I shouldn’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you want to say?” Harry asks. He wants to know. Louis is the most interesting person he’s ever met and he wants to know everything about him. Now seems like an opportune time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nope,” Louis says, and rolls all the way over onto his stomach, burying his head under his pillow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s fine. Harry watches his body settle, and since Louis’ face is hidden, he lets himself take a long look at Louis’ back, and since he can still feel his eyeballs, he tries to sort of feel Louis’ back with them. It may or may not work. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But his back looks warm and golden and the curve of his spine is just… everything. The way the dimples at the bottom are right above the waistband of his sweatpants, like two little flashing neon arrows pointing the way towards the holy grail that is Louis’ ass. It’s amazing. His ass is amazing. God, it’s like… it’s like a perfect curve. For the first time in his life, Harry wishes he’d taken more of an interest in math so that he could plot the curve of Louis’ ass. Wonder what that equation would look like. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jesus Christ,” Louis says, and Harry drags his eyes away from Louis’ ass. “Please don’t do any math about my ass.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you gonna keep staring at my ass? ’Cause I can just roll over,” Louis says, and then he does. He just rolls over, shirtless and pubes showing over the top of his waistband, and everything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are the hairs on your ass like these?” Harry asks, touching the tip of his index finger to one of the sparse, short hairs below Louis’ belly button. Louis sucks his stomach in, away from Harry's touch. Maybe he’s ticklish. Harry twirls his fingers in Louis’ chest hair instead. “Or are they like these?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Louis grabs Harry’s hand. “Are you gonna talk about my ass all night?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe?” Harry frowns. “I wasn’t talking about your ass.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, okay.” Louis laughs through his nose. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Harry says, and looks at the light on the ceiling from Louis’ lamp. It’s brighter than he remembers, but maybe that’s his own lamp. “What if, when this is all over, the salon is closed?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like, what if they go out of business? And close down?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess you’d have to find someone else to wax your asshole, Harry,” Louis says, pointing at the ceiling and tracing shapes in the air. “There are other salons that do that sort of thing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But what if there aren’t?” Harry watches Louis’ hands like he’s conducting silent music or the movement of invisible shapes in the air. “What if all the salons close?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not gonna happen,” Louis says, as if he can see the future. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How do you know?” Harry asks. Maybe Louis </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> see the future. Maybe he can read Harry's mind. That would be awful. No way would Louis let him get away with some of the things he thinks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Suppose I don’t.” Louis sighs and Harry feels bad for making him worry. “Don’t they sell at-home waxing kits? If all the salons close down, which won’t happen, but if it does, you can just wax yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry grimaces at the thought, trying to imagine what kind of position he’d need to be in to do it. It seems like it would be impossible to do alone. He’d need help and there’s only one person he’d trust to do it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’d have to help.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If I have to wax myself, you’d have to help,” Harry says, and Louis laughs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, babe. If all the salons close down permanently and you still feel like you need your ass crack waxed, I’ll help.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Harry says, smiling up at the ceiling now that that’s settled. “I want to paint something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Louis turns his head towards him, so Harry does the same, wondering if he could paint Louis and what it might look like. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think we have any paint,” Louis says, tapping his fingers against his bare chest. The rhythm is too fast for Harry to keep up, so he slips his hand beneath Louis’ hand, laying it flat on his chest where he can feel Louis’ heartbeat and the tapping of his fingers. Pouting, Harry curls and uncurls his fingers, scratching Louis’ chest hair. “You know who has paint?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Niall?” Harry sits up, pressing his hand on Louis’ chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bob Ross,” Louis says, smiling up at him, and his eyes sparkle. It almost distracts Harry from the truth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bob Ross died, Louis,” Harry whispers, shaking his head. He thought it was common knowledge and being the bearer of bad news makes him tear up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Louis says, taking Harry’s hand off his chest and holding it with both of his. He grins and says, “But he lives on through the magic of the internet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry gasps, not because he wasn’t aware, but because he’s so happy that he didn’t upset Louis. While Louis goes to get his laptop, Harry fluffs the pillows and stacks them up so they can watch comfortably. And they do. For hours. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, Harry has to pee, and he’s thirsty, and he gets distracted by peeling his banana. When he comes back to Louis’ bedroom, he finds Louis on his stomach again, head pillowed on his folded arms, loose sweatpants so dangerously low that the very top of his crack is showing. He doesn’t know how long he stands there in the doorway staring, trying to bore holes through Louis’ pants with his eyes just to see what those hairs might look like. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dude,” Louis says, tugging his pants up higher and covering his bum completely. “Dude!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry's eyes snap up to meet Louis’ and he finds him scowling. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Louis pushes up onto all fours and then to his knees, sitting back and frowning. “If I’d known you’d be nonstop talking about my ass, I’d’ve never given you shrooms.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I haven’t.” Crossing his arms and pouting, Harry says, “I haven’t said anything about your ass.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bob Ross said he was painting a ‘happy little hill’ and you said it was ‘round, round, round’ like my butt, and then!” Louis raises his voice, pointing at Harry and shaking his finger. “Then you said you wanted to be ‘buried under that hill’, which you clarified to mean you wanted me to sit on your face!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I did not!” Harry shouts. Though… maybe he did. He frowns and pinches at his lips. “Did I?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Harry says, reaching for his phone. “Maybe we should ask Niall.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Niall isn’t here. He didn’t hear you say it!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, but…” Harry taps the call button and backs into the hallway. “He might’ve been listening.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry locks himself in his own bedroom, falling face first on the bed, and waiting for Niall to answer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry?” Niall answers, sounding confused. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Niall!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry!” The smile is evident in his voice, so Harry smiles back. Maybe Niall can hear that too. “Have a nice trip?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah… Did you hear me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hear you? Just now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, earlier when we were watching Bob Ross.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you call earlier? I—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No! No, did you hear me say anything about Louis’ ass.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You talk about his ass all the time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, maybe not </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> the time. But enough.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry scoffs. “It’s never enough, Niall.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right… Did you actually want something? ’Cause I was sleeping,” Niall says, and Harry feels awful for waking him up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, just… Louis said I said a bunch of stuff about his butt, and I’m pretty sure I didn’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe those magic mushrooms gave him the ability to read your mind,” Niall suggests not at all helpfully. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nooooooo,” Harry says. “That would be horrible. You don’t think— Does he </span>
  <em>
    <span>know?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Know that he can read your mind?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Know that I, you know,” Harry says, hoping Niall can read his mind too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe. Maybe </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>can read </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> mind. Maybe that’s what happened.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m pretty sure, if I could read his mind, it wouldn’t be full of thoughts about his own ass and what I’d like to do to it,” Harry says sensibly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sure though?” Niall asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nooooooo.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dunno, man,” Niall says thoughtfully. “Think you should ask Louis.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh! Good idea. Good idea,” Harry says, clambering off his bed and unlocking his door. “I’ll ask him. Thanks, Niall!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead of going back to Louis’ room, Harry goes to the living room and sits on the couch, thinking hard in Louis’ direction. Nothing happens. But maybe Louis fell asleep in his absence. Or maybe the closed bedroom door stops his thoughts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Louis,” Harry says from just outside the door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you tell what I’m thinking?” Harry asks, closing his eyes and fighting with his own mind to think about something other than Louis’ ass. He doesn’t know how successful he is. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Something about my ass,” Louis calls through the door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry pushes the door open, stumbling inside. “How’d you know?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shrugging, Louis buries his head under the pillow again, body shifting slightly, bum wiggling with the movement. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about now?” Harry asks, stepping closer to the bed, staring unabashedly at the curve of the base of Louis’ spine and the slope of his ass. “What am I thinking now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uhh… my ass again,” Louis answers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> read my mind!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Louis lifts his head, looking up at Harry. “I really don't think so.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then how do you explain why you know exactly what I’m thinking?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry, you’ve been going on and on about my ass all night. It’s fucking—” Louis pushes himself up to rest on his forearms, which doesn’t help Harry at all, exaggerating his curves so that it’s even harder to look away. “I know that it’s sometimes hard to like, stop thinking about something, like, especially when you’re high or tripping or whatever, but you’ve basically been non stop objectifying me. And like, it’d be different if we were dating. But like, we’re friends and it’s fucking weird to hear you talk about me like I’m some sort of sex object when you’ve never showed any interest before.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taken aback, Harry holds one hand to his chest, focusing on the blue of Louis’ sad eyes. “But I love your ass.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“See!” Louis leaps off the bed so fast Harry’s head spins, possibly literally. “Stop it!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But I love you,” Harry says with a frown. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s too far, Harry,” Louis says, pushing past him and leaving the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry finds him on the couch, curled up under a blanket, eyes closed, headphones over his ears. He stands behind the couch, staring down at him until Louis opens his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jesus fucking Christ, Harry,” Louis says, covering his face with his hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not supposed to touch your face,” Harry says, though he doubts Louis can hear him with his headphones on. Maybe if he thinks it really hard, Louis will hear that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Louis lowers his hands from his face. “I know I’m not supposed to touch my face.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you </span>
  <em>
    <span>can </span>
  </em>
  <span>read my mind,” Harry says, leaning down over the back of the couch to get as close as possible to Louis’ eyes so he can see if the little flecks are golden or green or if they’re really glowing or if it’s just the way the light hits them. “What am I thinking right now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Something about my asshole, probably.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” Pursing his lips, Harry stands up straight, frowning down at Louis. “No. I was thinking about your eyes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“About how the pupil is hole, just like the one in my ass?” Louis tips his head to the side, taking off his headphones. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eww… No.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You sure? No asshole eyeballs? That too weird for you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes?” Harry isn’t sure, actually. The pupil </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> technically a hole.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure about that, Bob Ross?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m Harry,” Harry says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, but you called my ass a ‘happy little heiny’ earlier, so…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it?” Harry asks, ignoring the part where he definitely didn’t say that out loud. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Louis scratches his beard and Harry stops himself from telling him not to touch his face. It probably wouldn’t go over well, considering he’s currently touching his own lower lip. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sighing quietly, Louis says, “It’s been happier.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Searching Louis’ face, Harry finally settles on his eyes, which actually do glow a little. “I could make it happy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How’re you gonna do that?” Louis asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry has to take a deep breath. Partly because he forgot what he said and has to think back to thirty seconds prior which is a struggle. Once he remembers, he nods and says, “Well… For starters, I’d never ask you to wax it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh!” Harry raises one finger in the air, brilliant thought hitting him hard. “I’d rim you. Whenever you want!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hands over his eyes again, Louis says, “Right.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rather than say anything else, Harry studies the parts of Louis that he can see. His pink cheeks and sharp jaw, the scruff that he always wants to touch, his neck, collarbones, chest, nipples… Harry gets lost on the way to Louis’ belly button. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry,” Louis says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You realize you’re talking about rimming me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you realize you’re saying this all out loud?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry nods. “Yes!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is so weird,” Louis mutters, shaking his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is! Oh!” Harry reaches down, touching himself, making sure that his dick is still present and accounted for. It is. “I could definitely fuck you hard like you said.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Louis rolls off the couch and hops to his feet. “Harry, how fucked up are you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dunno,” Harry says, closing his eyes and trying to gauge it. “I feel pretty good. Happy? Except when you said you didn’t love me. That was sad. But I’m kind of hoping I won’t remember that tomorrow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t say that.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Harry opens his eyes, he sees Louis standing in front of him, hands in his hair making it messy, chest turning as pink as his cheeks, and sweatpants hanging so low he might as well not have them on. He can see Louis’ dick through his pants and there’s no way of knowing if he can actually see it or if it’s this higher plane of existence he’s found himself on. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry whispers, “Can you hear me thinking about your dick?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sputtering, Louis looks down, unnecessarily adjusting himself. “I need to go talk to Niall.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go? You’re leaving?” Harry asks, watching Louis walk to the door, still wearing nothing but a pair of indecent sweatpants.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’ll be right back though. Don’t go anywhere.” Louis raises his eyebrows, and Harry just stares at him. Pointing at the couch, Louis says, “Sit.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry sits. And waits. While Louis is gone, Harry thinks at him. He thinks about his dick again, just because he wonders what it looks like, and he thinks about his ass, and he thinks about why Louis left him all alone for what feels like hours. Then he thinks about time, and what it means when people say time is relative, and whether they mean like scientifically or like… spiritually or emotionally. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” Louis says, shutting the door behind him. “You didn’t move at all, did you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.” Harry nods and sways a little side to side, proud of himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I talked to Niall. And I made him tell me some stuff,” Louis says, still standing by the door. “So, I’m gonna shower ’cause I feel germy from walking downstairs, and then you’re going to rim me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am?” Harry stands up so fast, he feels like he’s still sitting down. He looks to be sure, but no, he’s definitely standing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep. And then, if you can, you’re gonna fuck me,” Louis says matter of factly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You want me to?” Harry asks, voice squeaky. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep. Have for like, ever, actually. And we can talk about that tomorrow, but for now…” Louis waves at him, then shoves his sweatpants down, giving Harry a perfect view of his cock, before spinning around and heading towards the bathroom. Harry has no idea how long he stands there watching the phantom vision of Louis’ ass repeatedly walk away, but what seems like a few seconds later, Louis reappears in a cloud of steam, towel wrapped loosely around his waist, water dripping from his wet hair and rolling down his chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s go, Harold!” Louis shouts, “My asshole awaits!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry runs, tripping over Louis’ discarded sweatpants, but catching himself before he falls. He stops in the kitchen to scrub his hands, proud for remembering, then runs again, joining Louis in his bedroom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Harry says softly, stopping just inside the room, because Louis is laying on his stomach again, but this time he’s naked, propped up on his elbows, and looking at Harry. “Wow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you always look at me like that?” Louis asks with a laugh. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like what?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a moment, Louis finally says, “Like a frog who wants to eat me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe? I try not to, um… stare. It’s hard sometimes.” Harry steps a little closer to the bed, caught up in the glow of the lamplight on Louis’ back, but when Louis rolls over, it breaks the spell. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blue eyes shining in the light, Louis grins. “You really like me, huh? Can’t believe I didn’t notice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What did Niall tell you?” Harry asks through narrowed eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Louis snorts and holds his arms outstretched. “That if all it took was some mushrooms to get us together, he’d have dosed us a long time ago.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not— We’re together?” Harry doesn’t remember that conversation, but also, he doesn’t remember calling Louis’ ass a ‘happy little heiny’ so…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think so,” Louis says, wiggling his fingers until Harry gets the hint and moves closer. He stands right next to the bed, and Louis grabs him, pulling him down on top of him. “Ouch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry. Surprised me,” Harry says, getting his bearings. When he looks up, they’re face to face, and Harry gasps.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You okay?” Louis furrows his brow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think so,” Harry says, taking a mental inventory. All limbs accounted for. “I don’t really understand wh—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rest of his words are lost in Louis’ mouth, which shockingly is attached to his own, and he closes his eyes to let himself feel it. It is, by far, the best kiss he’s ever experienced. Louis slips his tongue between Harry’s parted lips, sliding his hands up and down Harry’s back, settling one between his shoulder blades and one on his hip. He nips at Harry’s lower lip and Harry groans, grinding against Louis’ hardening cock. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pulling back, Harry dips down to kiss Louis once more, and says, “This is really happening.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, pretty sure,” Louis says, tipping his chin up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good.” Grinning, Harry raises his eyebrows, and says, “Turn over.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can’t. You’re on top of me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm… Sounds like you’re not trying hard enough,” Harry says, bracing himself when Louis smirks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Louis easily rolls on top of Harry, sitting astride his thighs. “How’s that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Better,” Harry says, bucking his hips and throwing Louis off, scrambling to his feet to strip out of his sweatpants, and climbing back onto the bed between Louis legs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rests his hands on the backs of Louis’ knees, trailing his eyes over his leg hair which glints auburn in the lamplight. At the juncture where Louis’ legs meet his body, his skin is paler, and the hair is darker. Between his legs, Harry can see the thicker hair, and he slides his hands up, running his fingertips over it, and pulling Louis’ cheeks apart. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His skin is still damp from the shower, the sparse hairs along his crack as well. Harry drags the pad of his thumb down over Louis’ rim, pushing gently, and moving lower, pressing just behind his balls and massaging in circles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought you were gonna have like, crazy, out of control pubes, but they’re just… normal,” Harry says, using his thumbs to spread Louis apart. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Louis laughs, looking back over his shoulder. “Told you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you?” Harry asks, settling down between Louis’ legs and kissing the back of his thigh. The hairs on his leg tickle, and Harry brushes his lips over them, back and forth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The warmth of Louis’ skin makes Harry’s mouth tingle and he kisses him again, firmer this time, licking along the crease under his bum. He digs his thumbs into Louis’ cheeks and pulls them apart, feeling saliva gather in his mouth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Using the flat of his tongue, Harry licks him from behind his balls, over his rim, getting him wet, and pulling back to look. The few hairs around his rim, sprinkled up and down his crack, are flattened to his skin with spit, and Harry closes his eyes. He licks him again, focusing on how they feel on his tongue, moaning when Louis trembles beneath him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With Louis’ encouraging noises, Harry zones out, focusing on licking over his rim, nipping at the skin of his crack, and holding him open with both hands. He presses forward, and Louis hitches his hips higher, riding his face while Harry pushes the tip of his tongue past the tight ring of muscle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fucking Louis with his tongue is up there with taking a trip into space on the list of things Harry’s always wanted but never thought he could do. The thought makes stars appear behind his eyelids, swirling in his mind while he swirls his tongue over Louis’ rim. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Louis’ fingers tangle in Harry’s hair and he pulls him away from his ass. Blinking, Harry looks up questioningly, and Louis says, “You’re gonna have to fuck me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh!” Harry sits up, and watches Louis’ ass jiggle when he lets go of it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, oh,” Louis says, grinding down against the bed. “There’s lube and condoms in the drawer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nodding quickly, Harry reaches for the drawer, rifling through until he finds condoms and a bottle of watermelon flavored lube. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Watermelon?” Harry asks, wetting his fingers and sniffing the bottle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it? Got that as a party favor,” Louis says, pushing up onto all fours. “Come on. Come on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Never one to be rushed, Harry slowly spreads lube over Louis’ rim, pushing a finger inside, and marveling at the heat of Louis’ body. He pumps his finger in and out a few times, and when Louis huffs impatiently, he slips his middle finger inside, twisting his two fingers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Enough,” Louis says, reaching back to swat at Harry’s hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Enough?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You said you’d fuck me hard, so do it,” Louis orders, and Harry nods, though Louis can’t see him. He pulls his fingers free and opens the condom with slippery, shiny fingers, giggling at the foil package sparkling in the light. Rolling the condom on carefully and double checking he did it right, Harry takes a few steadying breaths. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry lines up, pushing the head of his cock against Louis’ rim, and sucking in a sharp breath when the first few inches slide inside. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh god,” Louis says, moaning and dropping his head down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gradually, Harry presses forward until his cock is completely surrounded by Louis’ tight heat. He looks down, amazed at the sight, and slowly pulls halfway out. The light reflects off his condom covered cock and the slick lube, glittering, and drawing Harry's eye. He thrusts his hips forward, and the glowing light seems to surround his cock. Harry's eyes go wide. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he pistons his hips, fucking Louis hard, and drawing grunts and groans from him, he keeps his eyes on the place where their bodies meet, mouth hanging open at the sight. Sparks fly from the friction of his dick dragging against Louis’ stretched rim, and Harry can’t see anything else. The faster he moves, the brighter the light, and he’s so mesmerized by it, that he forgets the actual purpose of what they’re doing. His mind is set on the glow between them, and on making it grow, because they’re connected. The sparks they make and his building orgasm are part of the same thing. The same energy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry dicks in deep, and Louis comes, muscles tightening around him. He collapses underneath Harry, shaking with the aftershocks of his own release, but still meeting Harry's thrusts as well as he can. Lifting up, Harry fills him again and again, light and sparks surrounding them both, until his orgasm overtakes him. He pulses inside the condom, inside Louis, warmth radiating through his body, limbs tingling as he falls on top of him, sucking in air. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my god,” Harry whispers, gently pulling out, and crawling backwards. He doesn’t make it to the trash can, slumping forward between Louis’ legs when he notices that familiar glow. With both hands, he squeezed Louis’ asscheeks, spreading him open just to see it again. “Oh my god.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The hairs along Louis’ crack are plastered to his skin, his rim is stretched and pink, and all around it, his skin gleams and glimmers in the light. It is, undoubtedly, a religious experience. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Louis?” Harry flops onto his back, hanging halfway off the bed, and watching waves of light roll across the ceiling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, baby?” Louis’ voice is scratchy and soft and he sounds well fucked. It makes Harry quite proud. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think I saw god in your asshole.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Louis snorts and tosses the bottle of lube at him. “Glittery lube. But I, and my asshole, appreciate the compliment.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading! </p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <a href="https://kingsofeverything.tumblr.com/post/613675870518951936/have-a-nice-trip">Tumblr post</a>, if you'd like to reblog.<br/><a href="https://twitter.com/kingsofthings/status/1243266414494040067?s=20">Tweet is here.</a><br/><a> Thanks for sharing it, if you do! ❤️</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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